Janice, seen below in this sketchy photograph (we assure you it is very real) is our fallen spider, dead either of exposure, exhaustion, or... dare I imagine... a broken heart?*...
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| *"Where were you, Junior??" |
<---- b="" her="" s="" that="">
barely visible, but she's there
Anyway, Janice's death comes somewhat as a relief because she very well could have infiltrated the apartment and killed us all. But it also hits a deeper chord of sorrow and loss, and we hope she's in a better place now. **
** One possible interpretation of Spider Heaven:
The night hijacks the last shade of deep blue from the daylight, holding on as long as it can before the color fades to black as swelling clouds bruise a dark sky punctuated by lonely stars.
It's humid, and mosquitos and moths hover lazily over a marshy terrain free of pesticides and uninhabited by humans.
The spiders execute everything perfectly - the placement and exquisite texture of their webs, their eerie rhythm in time with the hum and whir of the fluttering life around them - and wait.
The catch comes easy and for once the kill is not accompanied by fear or frenzied compulsion to get it over with. Here there is an understanding, that everything - living, dying, or somewhere between - feeds the wheel of Life. A trickle from a vein of one being sustains another that fills the same time and space. There is no real death; only transformation. One form of energy breathed into another. And energy knows no pain, no regret, no heartache, and no end.
So yeah. Janice, we hardly knew ye and hopefully all that shit I said beforehand works out for you.
RIP Janice 2016-2016
